The Smell of Free

Smell it? I did. Underneath the peculiar, combined odors of curry and hamburgers (courtesy of Tambers Diner in Charles Village, which serves a full Indian and American diner menu) it lay, the smell of free. What does free smell like? It often smells crisp, clear, like electricity, like a new, unopened book, like the first flower blossoms of the spring. In this case, it smelled like acid-free paper. I zeroed into its location by the front door, where the Spring 2005 brochures from the Baltimore Free University lay neatly by the door.

I am not one who is known to give up a bargain. A free one? Unheard of. I quickly skimmed the courses: Why Am I Letting This Happen to Me Again? Ballroom Dance Lessons, Some Essays or Thoreau, Dynamic Public Speaking, Shower Singing, The Freewriting Workshop, Beer History and Appreciation, and The No-Baloney Guide to Buying Real Estate, to name a few. What to take? I envisioned all that free knowledge pouring into the sieve of my head, alongside all my education-on-the cheap classmates. Could it be too good to be true?

I envisioned the downsides: bored, know-it-all retirees holding court while I sat quietly in the back doodling on a unused notepad. Eccentric, know-it-all weirdos dominating discussion while I peeled the label off a caffeine-free diet coke. Susan Powers wannabes slapping our desks and daring us to stop the insanity. Did I mention this is the year I declared myself as no longer judgmental?

Free. All free. No fees. Free. It doesn't matter whether I sign up for Socialism and Class Struggle or Poetry: Rhythms of the Heart. It's all free. It's all good.